


Her Only Choice

by DesertVixen



Category: The Aristocats (1970)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Off-screen death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: An AU where Duchess rescues herself...and a future that's a little dimmer





	Her Only Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katherine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine/gifts).



The trunk was meowing. At first, he’d thought he was imagining it, but now the clerk was sure of it. Although the labels said Timbuktu, it was very light. Ordinarily, he liked to amuse himself by wondering what people were sending to far-off places, but he had never gone farther than wondering.

This trunk was different, however. 

“Where did you pick this up?” He approached the surly delivery driver cautiously – the man was rarely friendly to anyone.

“One of the big houses with a butler, thinks he’s too good for the likes of us,” grumbled the delivery driver. “Cheap snob too, not even a tip.”

The clerk didn’t like it. The more he thought about it, the less he liked it. For one thing, the meowing was getting louder. 

When he took a crowbar to the lock and opened it, cats flew out of it, leaving him in a cloud of fur. Before he could do anything, they were gone.

*** 

Running had not perhaps been the best decision, but Duchess was terrified for Madame Bonfamille. If Edgar had gone this far, who knew what they would do to their mistress? She knew the streets near her own home from carriage rides, but these streets were completely unfamiliar. They didn’t look like the streets that Thomas O’Malley had led them through on the way to Scat Cat’s pad, either.

Finally, thanks to some help from a pair of Siamese sunning themselves on a balcony, Duchess was able to find her way back to her own neighborhood.

But when they finally made it back to the mansion, it was too late.

Strange men were carrying a shrouded form on a stretcher. Duchess left the kittens huddled across the street in the shadows, and crept forward. She got close enough to hear the men’s voices talking about how the old lady must have missed a step in her grief over her missing cats. Her butler was distraught, the poor man.

Duchess hissed as she caught sight of Edgar, crying fake tears. Poor Madame, she thought mournfully, poor graceful Madame who would never have missed a step, no matter how hard she was crying. If only they could have escaped sooner.

What were they to do? There was no sign of Thomas O’Malley or Roquefort Mouse, and she couldn’t justify taking her kittens out on the streets again, not when they could get lost in a bad place. Thomas – he must have thought they would be good, that they would never need him again. And poor Roquefort – had he been killed trying to find help for them?

There was only one person, one place, she could think of – Georges. 

Georges Hautecorte, Madame’s lawyer. More important, Duchess knew she could find his house easily. They had ridden there in the carriage many times. More importantly, she knew they would be safe with him.

*** 

Georges Hautecorte – friend and former paramour of Madame Adelaide Bonfamille – thought he might be going crazy with grief. He swore he heard cats at his doorstep, meowing plaintively and scratching. 

Finally, he went to the door – he had given his staff an early dismissal, preferring to be alone with the memory of the woman he had loved most – sure he would find a stray cat hoping for some milk.

Instead, he found himself looking down in surprise. The white cat and three kittens looked dirty and bedraggled, not elegant at all, but he recognized them.

“Duchess! Kittens!” He leaned down enough for her to leap into his arms, and the kittens tumbled about his feet. He rested his cheek against her fur, and Duchess could feel the wetness of his tears.

Once they were warm and fed, and Duchess had applied herself to cleaning the kittens and herself, the kittens were curled in a large basket, lined with a soft blanket. Duchess herself sat on Georges’ lap, his hands idly stroking her fur. He had spoken to her of Madame, of course, and he was convinced that she was listening to him, her large blue eyes serious as he talked to her.

“If only you could tell me what happened,” he said softly. “I can’t believe you would have run away.”

She meowed indignantly, and he chuckled – the first sound of mirth he’d made since Adelaide’s death.

“I know, Duchess. I know.”

The more he thought about it, the more it became apparent to Georges Hautecorte that there could only be one person behind the cats’ disappearance. The same person who had been in the house when Adelaide had fallen.

Edgar, her butler.

The man who was due to receive quite a lot of money after her death, after the cats were dead.

He wanted to charge over, to demand the truth, to avenge Adelaide’s death – her murder, he corrected. Somehow, he was sure she had not missed a step accidentally.

But how to prove it?

He stood, moved to place Duchess in the basket with her kittens, thinking of the things he would need to care for the cats, when it hit him.

The will. Adelaide’s will – and the conditions in it.

*** 

Georges watched through his window as Edgar made his way down the walk, clearly not a happy butler. He’d played the role of the sad longtime servant who had lost his mistress, who hated to bother the attorney but there were expenses. Normal household expenses would be covered of course, but the lawyer knew what Edgar was really after. 

The money he was to be left for taking care of the poor, lost kitties. 

Georges was sure now that Edgar had catnapped Duchess and the kittens. He wondered idly how the butler had found out that he was being left the money. 

Edgar had not taken the news that Adelaide’s will specified that the money did not go to him until after the cats were gone very well. He’d done his best not to show it, agreeing with Edgar that it was really unfair but that his hands were tied. Until Georges had proof that the cats were actually dead, he was not allowed to release the money. Then, he had played his trump card.

“I’ve arranged to put some ads in the paper, to help us find the cats,” he’d said with a smile. “I’ll handle that aspect of it myself. I know you must be overwhelmed at the mansion.”

Edgar had stammered that Georges really shouldn’t have been so kind, and said that he hoped some information would come to light, because he missed them so. 

Then he had escaped.

Now, Georges simply had to hope that something came to light.

*** 

The clerk looked at the newspaper clipping, then the big house, then back at the clipping. He hadn’t actually seen the cats that had flown out of the trunk, but the delivery driver was sure that the trunk had been picked up at Madame Bonfamille’s mansion. He supposed they could be the animals shown in the picture that promised a reward.

He drew himself up when the butler answered the door, and tried not to gawk at the finery in the house. The lawyer was a funny looking little man, and a beautiful white cat sat on the desk, regarding him with calm blue eyes.

“I understand you picked up a trunk that had some cats inside it?” The lawyer peered at him through thick glasses.

“Well, I opened a trunk that had some cats in it.” The clerk told the story, telling the lawyer about the meowing, and how he had opened the trunk. He swore the lawyer looked at the cat, as if he was checking to see if the clerk was telling the truth.

“The driver is sure about where he picked up the trunk?”

“Oh yes,” the clerk assured him. “He remembers not getting a tip.”

Georges chuckled. “That does sound like the man we’re looking for.”

The clerk was on his way in a short while, having written up a document detailing his story, with the reward money and a little extra for the driver.

When he had gone, Georges sat at his desk and stroked Duchess’s head. “I do believe we have him, my dear.”

She purred. Duchess had faith that Georges would not only take care of them, but that he would definitely take care of the greedy butler.

It would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! You said you were okay with a little tragic, so I decided to give it a try.


End file.
